Hearts & Arrows
by mnemosyne23
Summary: Aphrodite's tired of Cupid lounging around the house, and sends him back to work. First mission: bring a little loving to the crew of Enterprise. Malcolm/Hoshi, with a healthy dose of Trip and plenty of T'Pol. COMPLETE!
1. The Assignment

**TITLE:** Hearts & Arrows  
_Chapter One: The Assignment_  
**AUTHOR:** Mnemosyne 

**SUMMARY:** Aphrodite's tired of Cupid lounging around the house, and sends him back to work. First mission: bring a little loving to the crew of _Enterprise._  
**DISCLAIMER:** *snort* Don't I wish?  
**RATING:** PG-13  
**SPOILERS:** *dying of hysterical laughter*  
**CODES:** R/S, T'p, Tu, the others  
**CATEGORY:** Humor, romance  
**NOTES:** Okay, I'll admit it - I'm a Greek/Roman mythology nut. I live for the stuff. For about four years, from ninth grade through senior year of high school, it was next to life's blood for me. And while the fervor has died a little, I'm still that psycho little Bacchanal at heart. :-D LOL! This idea came quite out of the blue, rather like one of Cupid's love darts, and I ran with it. I thought a little humor might be nice after the generally angsty fare I ante up. I hope you all enjoy! Have fun! 

  


* * *

  
_Cupid, please hear my cry,  
And let your arrow fly   
Straight to my lover's heart for me... _

-"Cupid"  
Sam Cooke 

  
  
Aphrodite, Divine Goddess of Love, Daughter of the Sea Foam, Patron of Cyprus, She of the Concealing Tresses, Mistress of the Cushy Clamshell, was angry. When Love got angry, bad things happened. And if there was one thing Love DIDN'T...well, love, it was bad things. Love enjoyed everything soft and pleasant and warm, like puppies and kittens and fuzzy slippers. So you could bet that whenever a flower died, or rain fell on a wedding day, Love was pissed. 

Somewhere, someone's wedding must have been drowned out by a tsunami, because Venus was on the warpath. 

"CUUUUUUUUPIIIIIIIIID!" she shrieked, her pleasant, bell-like voice somehow managing to convey her rage. "CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID!" 

"Here, mommy!" 

Diaphanous robes floated around the goddess as she swept through the marble doors of her opulent palace. Of all the castles on Olympus, it was by far the prettiest, made of white and rose marble and filled with elegant plaster moldings of deliriously happy things: bunnies frolicking in fields of clover, children playing with the bunnies, couples copulating while the children were out playing with the bunnies... 

Love was big on thematic decorating. 

Eros - Wielder of the Enchanted Bow, God of Sensual Love, Son of the Divine Goddess of Beauty, He of the Chiseled Yet Cherubic Countenance - was lounging by her pool. He did that a lot of late: lounge. Lounge by the pool. Lounge in fields of sweet-smelling grasses. Lounge in bed. Lounge at the supper table. Aphrodite was about ready to give her son a new title: No Good Layabout Lounge Monkey. The only thing stopping her was the fact that he WAS her son, and she loved him madly, even if he DID have a tendency to loaf around like a divine potato sack with legs. She was love incarnate, so she usually forgave him. 

THIS, though... THIS was unforgiveable. 

She stopped and stood beside him, tapping her dainty foot and crossing her milk-white arms over her flat stomach. Glaring down at him with emerald green eyes that had been the stuff of songs for centuries, the Goddess of Love pursed her rosebud lips and furrowed her delicate eyebrows. "What. Were. You. THINKING?" she grated through perfect white teeth. They even gritted perfectly. 

Eros - or Cupid, though he thought the other name made him sound manlier - pushed his reflective sunglasses onto his forehead and stared up at her with brilliantly blue eyes. He was sunning himself, which was one of his favorite lounging activities. Not that his skin needed any bronzing - he'd been naturally tan since birth. "What's the skinny, mom?" he asked, giving her a dazzling white smile. 

Oh no - she wasn't going to fall for his _How can you be angry at such a beautiful son?_ routine this time. This was too much. "What's the skinny? What's the SKINNY?" She was trying her hardest not to become shrill, but it was so very, VERY hard. "There's nothing skinny about this! This is huge! Enormous! This is one big, FAT mess you've gotten yourself into, junior!" 

Cupid sat up straight, nearly knocking over his umbrella drink as he did so. "Don't call me that, mommy!" he whined, pouting out his lower lip. 

"I'll call you whatever I want! I'm your mother, and don't you forget it!" He didn't look anywhere NEAR properly chastised, and he was sulking, but she'd soon clear that up. "Why did you do it? WHY!" 

"Do what?" he asked, flashing her with his innocent eyes. She recognized the ploy. She'd used it plenty of times during her on-again, off-again affair with Ares, whenever Hephaestus started to suspect anything. Of course, that was years ago, but she still knew the old tricks. She'd invented them. 

"This," she snarled, and thrust a glossy magazine at him. 

He took it and glanced it over. "What about it?" he asked, handing it back to her. 

She was, quite frankly, dumbstruck. Could it be... he didn't REALLY know what a screw-up this was? Could he really be that... VACANT? 

Counting to ten, she held the magazine in front of his face, right up close, near his nose. "Woman. Gives. Birth. To. Bigfoot's. Baby," she growled, not bothering to look at the cover as she said it. She'd already memorized the words. They were burned into her mind. 

Eros shrugged. "So?" he asked, pushing her hand aside and looking up at her as he resituated himself into lounging position. "They write that kind of stuff all the time." 

"But this time it's TRUE!" She threw the magazine into the air and it turned into a flock of snow white doves. 

Eros clapped. 

"Oh, shut up, you idiot," she snapped. He quieted obediently. "Do you know what a travesty this is? I KNOW you made that fool woman fall in love with that hairy creature. It has you written all over it!" 

"Mommy, I was BORED." 

"Don't _mommy_ me, junior! You know the rules - humans are not to fall in love with nasty, hairy creatures unless you're really, really angry with them! Do you understand? How would you feel if your boredom has just gone and put another Minotaur on the Earth, hmmmm? Would that make you happy? Luckily, Bigfoot is close enough to human that the child should pass easily enough through life. But oh - the haircuts!" 

"Maybe they'll think he's Italian?" 

She smacked him upside his well-coifed blonde head. 

"Ow!" 

"The baby's a she, you moron!" 

"Oh." 

"That's it." She crossed her arms again and tossed her brilliant golden hair. "YOU are going back to work. Full-time!" 

"No!" Cupid bolted to his feet. "Mommy, pleeeeeease. I don't wanna!" 

"Too bad. You just said you were bored, correct? Well, this should counter that QUITE nicely." 

"But... But..." 

"Stop that. You sound like a Chevy Nova." She aimed a slender finger at the heart-shaped pool. The water began to swirl, and soon transformed into a divine portal onto the mortal world. "I've already chosen your first assignment." 

Eros was still pouting, but she ignored him as she walked to the edge of the pool. They could see a bunch of humans walking through cramped grey corridors, dressed in blue jumpsuits with tri-colored piping to differentiate between separate departments. Aphrodite smiled smugly - sometimes her brilliance amazed even her. 

"What is it?" Cupid sulked morosely. 

"The starship _Enterprise_. Rather like Helios' chariot, only it goes much, much farther." She turned to her son. "They're currently on a deep space mission, out in the depths of the void, further than any of their species has ever ventured. You know what that means." 

"No Cinemax?" 

She smacked him again. 

"Ow!" 

"Lonely, miserable people!" 

"Ohhhhhhh." 

Rolling her eyes, she continued. "I want you to GO to that ship, FIND the loneliest, most miserable person you can lay your godly hands on, and hook he or she up with their perfect match. Understood?" 

"Yes, mommy." 

"Good. Now, remember - keep the magic mellow. You throw too much at these humans and their heads are liable to explode from the lust." 

"Geez, mom, I know THAT. I AM the God of Sensual Love, you know." 

"Do you NEED me to remind you of the last time I let you go gallivanting off on your own without supervision, junior?" 

Cupid shifted uncomfortably. "Moooom..." he whined. 

"Tommy Lee and Pamela Andersen." 

"Mooooom, quit it!" 

"Dennis Rodman and Carmen Elektra?" 

"I get it!" 

" Don't even get me STARTED on the Michael Jackson, Lisa Marie Presley fiasco!" 

"Okay, okay!" Eros held up his hands in defeat. "I'll be careful this time, mommy, honest. I promise!" 

She smiled indulgently. "There's my good boy." Lifting up on her tiptoes, she pecked him on the cheek and ruffled his hair. "Now there IS one snag, and that's the Vulcan." 

Cupid frowned and looked around. "Dad?" 

Aphrodite sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, dear. Not VULCAN. THE Vulcan. Her name is T'Pol. But like your dear stepfather, she's a bit of a hard case. Stubborn taboot. She may cause you some problems, so just stay away from her. Oh, and son?" 

"Yes, mommy?" 

"UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO SHOOT THE VULCAN WITH YOUR LOVE ARROWS!" 

Cupid stumbled backwards, nearly tumbling over his deck chair, but Aphrodite snatched him back with a snap of her fingers. "Whoa!" he gasped, shaking his head to clear it. "Why not!" 

"Because Vulcans choose to suppress their emotions," she said it with disdain, "and if we were to allow those emotions to suddenly bubble to the surface, the results might be catastrophic. Understood?" 

"Yes, mommy. How will I know which one is the Vulcan?" 

"She's a bit green, with pointy ears." 

"Oh. Like Pan?" 

"Yes, only not a whore." 

"Okay." 

"All right then. Off you go!" 

Eros paled. "But... But..." 

"You're sputtering again, dear." 

"But... I need my bow! My arrows!" He held out his hands to her. "I can't go YET!" 

"Is THAT all that's troubling you?" Venus laughed, a sound like clear water over smooth stones, and snapped her fingers. A long, slender, elegantly carved bow appeared in Cupid's hand, and an ivory quiver full of arrows fletched in dove feathers hung over his shoulder. "All done!" 

"But... What about Psyche? Shouldn't I tell her I'm leaving?" 

Aphrodite shook her head. "If you go running off to find your wife, I'll never get you two apart long enough to send you on your way. I'll tell her. Where is she?" 

Eros sighed heavily. "In the bedroom, listening to Al Green records." 

"Well, glad to hear the girl hasn't lost her Soul." The goddess smiled brilliantly. "Off you go!" And with a dainty push, she sent her son tumbling over the edge of the pool, into the swirling vision. He was swallowed up by the water, and he, the starship, and all the little humans disappeared with a cheerful _GLUP!_

"There." Brushing her hands briskly together, Aphrodite exhaled happily and let herself exult for a moment. It had been a long time since she'd had a good exultation, and it felt good to stretch those muscles again. On earth, a flock of birds sang a blissful song so beautiful it broke three hearts and prompted six proposals of marriage. 

Good things were happening, and Love was happy. 

  


* * *

  
Eros, on the other hand, was miserable. He'd just been tossed unceremoniously out of the Kingdom of the Gods, into the middle of a drab, dismal, cramped little starship thingy, with express orders not to go back until he'd made someone fall in love with someone else. Finding the loneliest, most miserable person wasn't going to be the hard part; it was choosing which one to shoot that was going to be a problem! How could anyone NOT be wretched in a place as dreary as this? 

The crew couldn't see him, so he spent his first hour aboard the ship sitting in their cafeteria, watching. The assignment wasn't his idea of a fun day at the beach, but he was a natural people watcher, so he found himself enjoying the interaction between the various crewmen who wandered in and out of the table-crowded room. After about twenty minutes he decided the toga just wasn't cutting it, and changed into a blue jumpsuit to match the rest of the crew. True, they had no idea he was there, but it made him feel less conspicuous nonetheless. The bow and arrows he morphed into a phaser - at least, he THOUGHT they were called phasers; maybe tazers? Whatever. It was more compact, whatever it was, and easier to aim without elbowing people in the face. 

As the first hour segued into the second, Eros found himself getting more and more bored. Everyone who filed in and out of the room was so infernally cheerful! All laughing and joking and _Hey, they're showing Abbot and Costello tonight_-ing. It was enough to make the god sick to his divine stomach. How was he supposed to turn someone's frown upside down if they were all grinning like their faces had been sewn that way? 

As the second hour got well under way, he was mulling over arguments to use with his mother as to WHY this was a lost cause, when suddenly, a wave of sullen loneliness so strong swept over him, he nearly fell out of his booth. His head snapped up and he riveted his blue eyes to the figure who had just ambled through the door. 

Thin, muscular, angular. Back straight as a poker, shoulders level as a plumb line. Dark hair matched only by the darkness of his aura. 

Oh yes. The God of Love had just found his target, and it was a big'un. 

"Who are YOU?" Cupid muttered under his breath, not looking away as the man crossed the Mess Hall and settled into a table well away from any other member of the crew. He was tapping away at some sort of handheld computer - a data PADD? Was that it? - and was ignoring everything else around him. Including the food, it seemed, since he made no move to eat. 

"Malcolm!" 

The man's head snapped up at the voice, and Eros followed his gaze to the door once again, where a tall man with fair hair and cheerful eyes had just entered. "Commander," the man named Malcolm acknowledged. 

"Hey, we're off duty. Call me Trip, would ya?" The blond man took a seat opposite the first as Cupid watched. "What're you reading?" 

"The latest armory inventory." 

Trip rolled his eyes, mirroring Cupid's reaction. "Malcolm, like I just said, we're off duty." He reached across the table and snatched the PADD out of the other man's hand, ignoring his protests. "You going to movie night tonight?" 

"No," the darker man replied sharply, trying to snatch his work back. The commander kept it well out of reach. "I'm far too busy." 

"All work and no play makes Malcolm a sulky bastard," the southerner quipped. "Come on, Mal. One night out of the office ain't going to kill you. Hell, you might even have fun." 

"I assure you, I won't. And don't call me Mal." 

"Whatever you say. But you're going to movie night." 

"No I'm not." 

"Yes you are." 

"No, I'm NOT." 

"Yes, you ARE. Don't make me make it an order, Malcolm." 

Eros watched as the darker man fixed the fair-headed one with a stony stare. Slowly, his shoulders slumped, and he nodded in defeat. "Oh... fine," he muttered, sitting back. 

Trip grinned. "Great." 

Perhaps he should hit THIS one with the phaser arrow. Admittedly, neither of the men seemed to be homosexual, but they had SOMETHING, that much was obvious. After all, close friendships often transformed into something more, given enough time, even without divine intervention. 

Just as Eros was about to level his phaser at the duo, however, Trip leaned forward and whispered, "'Sides, Hoshi's going to be there." 

Cupid's hand stilled on the trigger as Malcolm's ears visibly pricked up. "She is?" 

"Uh-huh. She loves Abbott and Costello. Thinks they're hysterical." 

"I... Well..." 

"Oh, come on, Malcolm. Quit pussyfooting around and bite the bullet. Sit next to her!" 

Malcolm was sweating. The man had it BAD for this Hoshi. "I don't... That would be awfully forward, don't you think?" 

Trip snorted. "Yeah, if this were a Renaissance era cathedral and she was a nun. Which she ISN'T. She very, very ISN'T." 

Malcolm blushed. "I... Trip, it's fraternization." 

"Damn straight it is, and this officer is personally sanctioning it. Now get back to your quarters, suit yourself up, and don't be late. Wear the navy blue silk shirt. Makes your eyes stand out." 

"You think?" 

"Absolutely. Gives you this allure. Women love it." 

"Really? I always thought it made me look too pretty." 

"Malcolm?" 

"Yes?" 

"Trust me when I say, you'd need a lot more than a blue shirt to make YOU too pretty." 

"Thank you, Commander." 

"Hey, what are friends for?" 

This was almost too perfect. In the span of five minutes, Cupid had not only found his target, he'd also gotten the name of a potential match. Hoshi. A pretty name - it meant _star_ in Earth's Japanese language. Malcolm certainly had stars in his eyes at the mere mention of her name. 

Just then, Trip stiffened in his chair. "Don't look now, but Oshi-hay just walked through the oori-day." 

Malcolm stiffened as well. "Oh God," he whispered. 

"Just stay calm. She doesn't know." 

"Oh, God. Oh God..." 

Cupid turned his eyes towards the door once more, and saw a petite Asian woman with dark eyes and immaculate posture filling up a tray with food from the meal line. Malcolm had taste - she was no shrinking violet, but she was accessible. There was an air of self-assurance about her that was alluring, even to him as a god. Best not to dwell on that, however, or else Psyche would make him sleep on the floor for a 

"She's coming this way." Indeed, the young woman had spotted the two officers and was weaving her way through tables to reach them. 

"Oh God, Trip... What do I do!" 

"Nothing. Just act normal. Got it?" 

"Got it." 

"Okay, here she comes. Almost here. Almost... Hey, Hoshi! Wanna join us?" 

The God watched as the woman grinned at the two men. "What are you two talking about?" she teased. "You look like you're hiding some kind of dirty little secret." 

Malcolm nearly choked. 

"Sorry, Hoshi, 'fraid that's top secret," Trip said apologetically, reaching around the table to clap the other man on the back. He gestured to the last remaining chair with his free hand. "Siddown." 

She obliged, setting her tray down first, then sitting. "I sure hope this is good," she said, picking up her fork and digging into the casserole. "I'm STARVING." 

"Not too hungry for movie night, though," Trip mentioned. 

"Not a chance!" Hoshi took a mouthful, chewed, moaned happily, and swallowed. "I hear it's _Abbott and Costello Meet the Killer._ I haven't seen that one in years. We watched it in one of my film classes in college. I wouldn't miss that!" 

"Great! Me either. Or Malcolm. Ain't that right, Malcolm?" 

Hoshi turned surprised eyes on the dark-haired man, who was blushing furiously. "You're going to movie night, Malcolm?" 

He nodded tersely. "Yes. The... commander seemed to think I don't get out enough." 

Hoshi laughed; a bell-like peal reminiscent of Aphrodite's. "Cute, Trip." She turned to Malcolm again. "It'll be nice to see you there." She covered his hand and smiled at him. 

Malcolm smiled back. 

"Perfect," Cupid murmured, aimed his phaser between Hoshi's shoulder blades, and fired. 

  
  
_TBC..._


	2. What's the Divine Word for Whoops?

**TITLE:** Hearts & Arrows  
_Chapter Two: What's the Divine Word for "Whoops?"_  
**AUTHOR:** Mnemosyne  
**RATING:** PG-13  


  


* * *

  
By the time movie night rolled around, Eros was walking on a cloud. Literally. This was the easiest assignment EVER. Already he'd set up his couple and fired his love dart; it was all up to them now. He was just hanging around to see how it all turned out. 

He drifted through the corridors on his puffy cloud, watching the cheerful crewmen wander underneath him. Now and then he'd whisper something in a woman's ear, making her suddenly remember the dream she'd had the night before, or perhaps the fantasy she'd indulged in that morning in the shower. The blushes he encouraged were amazing. Other times, he'd poke some of the men in the side of the head, and watch them stumble as a particularly svelte member of the opposite sex walked past. 

Ah, it was good to be Love. 

Eventually, he found himself in the screening room. A good number of people had already turned out for the show. They clustered together in little groups, laughing and joking and throwing popcorn at each other's heads. That was one thing Cupid would NEVER understand about humans - their propensity for throwing things at each other. Food. Clothes. Issues of _TV Guide_. It was amazing more of them weren't sporting black eyes half the time. 

Malcolm showed up exactly ten minutes before showtime, and like Trip had suggested, he was wearing a blue silk shirt, which highlighted his eyes nicely. A pair of black pants - tight, but not sinfully so - and regulation black boots finished off the ensemble. He looked quite dashing; a few of the women in the room raked appreciative eyes over his body as he made his way self-consciously to a seat well off to the edge of the room. Cupid shook his head; the man looked like he wanted to shrivel up and disappear. That would never do; not if he was going to impress grounded, practical, amiable Hoshi Sato. 

Trip arrived a few minutes later. After spotting his friend hiding in the corner, he made his way through the maze of chairs towards him. "What're you hiding over here for!" he hissed as Cupid listened in. "Hoshi's going to be front row, center!" 

"Trip, I can't do this." Malcolm sounded like he was about to be very sick. Very noisily sick. "It's just... It's too open. If there were fewer people here..." 

"Malcolm, you're sitting next to her, for Pete's sake, not asking her to be your wife. People sit next to each other all the time. YOU sit next to people all the time. Hell, you sat next to me at lunch. Was that embarrassing?" 

"Well, you ARE a bit loud-" 

"That's not what I meant!" 

"Okay! No. It wasn't." 

"Exactly. And why's that? Because we're FRIENDS, and friends can sit together without being all nervous and jumpy. Okay?" 

Malcolm exhaled heavily. "Fine, fine," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, disarming phase torpedoes is less nerve wracking than this." 

Trip grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "The wiles of the fairer sex are treacherous waters, Malcolm, but you'll pull through." 

"Trip?" 

"Mm?" 

"Could we please not compare any of this to water? It's going to be hard enough to keep from vomiting on her shoes as it is." 

"Oh, right. Sorry, buddy." 

"Quite all right." 

"Don't wanna ROCK THE BOAT or anything." 

"Trip!" 

The fair-headed man laughed. "Just kidding!" 

Malcolm gave him a withering stare, but was distracted from voicing a response by the door opening and Hoshi entering. 

The instant she stepped into the room, Eros knew something was wrong. Perhaps it was the way she carried herself. Perhaps it was the scent of expensive perfume that lingered around her like a dreamy mist. Perhaps it was the sultry look that sizzled in her dark-lashed eyes. 

Perhaps it was the red, filmy negligee and stiletto heels. Yeah, that might have been it. 

"Oh Maaaalcoooolm," she crooned in a deep, inviting voice, a sly smile gracing her rosebud lips. One slim finger crooked in the armory officer's direction, beckoning him towards her. "Heeeeeere, boy." 

"Oh my God!" Malcolm and Trip croaked in unison. 

"Oh me!" Eros yelped in turn. 

Excited whispers buzzed through the room as the slender woman sashayed towards the two dumbfounded men, hips swaying enticingly. "I was going to wait until after the movie, but I couldn't go that long," she purred, sidling up to Malcolm and pressing against his body. She moaned happily as a pleased shiver worked up and down her spine. "Oooooh, you're even more muscular than I imagined. I bet you're really strong." She grinned. "I bet you've got lots of stamina." Giggling, she tickled her fingers under his chin. "You're going to neeeeeeed it!" 

Malcolm turned frantic eyes to his friend. "Help!" he squeaked, trying unsuccessfully to peel the woman off his body. 

Trip stared for a second, then shook his head and moved in. "Hoshi, what's wrong?" the engineer asked, trying to wrap his hands around her upper arms to pull her away from Malcolm. She was a slippery seductress, however; somehow, she managed to keep sliding out of his grasp. 

"Mmm, nothing's wrong," she cooed, nuzzling Malcolm's throat. "Everything's perfect for the first time in aaaaaages. Isn't it, Mally-wally?" She giggled and nipped at Malcolm's pulse point. 

"Help!" the armory officer squeaked again, even higher in pitch now, as he pressed himself into the wall, trying as hard as he could to get away from Hoshi's invading hands. 

Eros watched the scene go past in a haze. Someone called Sickbay, but the med team was unable to sedate the amorous ensign, and ended up carrying both her and the overwhelmed armory officer back to the infirmary. The rest of the crowd filed out behind them, Abbott and Costello forgotten for the moment, abandoned for a much more interesting spectacle. It wasn't often they got to see something like a scantily clad communications officer climbing all over a thoroughly surprised lieutenant. The door swished shut behind the last of them, leaving Cupid alone with his dread. 

This was bad. Very, very, very bad. Cataclysmically bad. When great-grandpa Kronos swallowed grampa Zeus and all his other grand-relations? Pretty bad. This? Worse. Why? Because the Goddess of Love had told him not to screw this up, and he'd just frigged that up like a one-legged circus clown. 

"Shit," he muttered, indulging in an uncharacteristic moment of vulgarity. Humans had some uses, at least. 

Well, his head hadn't exploded yet, so his mother must not have been paying attention to him at the moment. Good. Now it was time to focus on damage control. 

How in Hades was he going to fix THIS? 

Before he had a chance to wrap his head around THAT problem, however, an entirely new one cropped up, as a phaser shot ricocheted off the ceiling near his head. 

"Holy-!" he exclaimed, covering his head with his arms and ducking away. Yes, he was a god, and on that note, immortal, but still; no one liked people shooting at them. 

"Who are you and what have you done to Ensign Sato?" 

Cupid peeked through his fingers. A tall, slender woman stood beneath his cloud, staring up at him with remarkably cool eyes. Green tinge to the skin, pointy ears... 

Oh, Pluto. T'Pol. 

"How... How do you see me?" he asked, trying not to sound like a jibbering idiot. 

"Currently, I see you as an interloper floating on an indecipherable cloud in the middle of the screening room. How would you expect to be seen?" 

"What? Oh! No. No, I mean, how CAN you see me? I'm supposed to be invisible!" 

The Vulcan arched her eyebrow. "Invisibility is impossible. Even a cloaked ship is not invisible - it is merely an illusion." 

Cupid furrowed his eyebrows. "Huh?" 

She stared at him for a second, then moved on. "You have not answered my question. Who are you, and what have you done to Ensign Sato?" 

He sighed. "Long story," he told her, shoulders slumped dejectedly as he let his cloud drift downwards until he was even with her eyes. "Short version - I'm Eros, God of Love, and my mother Aphrodite sent me here to find the loneliest, most miserable person onboard. I saw Malcolm and boom! Perfect choice. So I shot Hoshi with my phaser arrow of love. It was SUPPOSED to be simple, but something obviously went wrong. Very, very wrong." He groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Oh man. Mom's going to KILL me." 

There was silence for a moment as the morose god let himself dwell in gloom. It wasn't a place he normally liked to dwell - he preferred tropical beaches with lots of bananas. 

Then, suddenly, a stinging pain ripped through his shoulder. "OW!" he bellowed as he jerked backward, covering his shoulder with one hand as he glared at the Vulcan. "Why'd you shoot me!" 

T'Pol considered him with calm eyes. "If you are truly an omniscient being, then the wound will not harm you. If you are a mortal, then the wound will be quite painful, but not life threatening. Either way, the problem is settled. One way, you are proven correct. The other, I have unmasked a delusional man with possible crazed intentions. It was a logical choice." 

Cupid glared at her. "Tell me, when you look at yourself in the mirror, do you see a psychopath?" 

"No." 

"Because you are one, you know." 

"No." 

Eros sighed. "Well, fine then. Here." He took his hand away, revealing his perfectly mended shoulder. Even the uniform was unharmed. "Happy now?" 

T'Pol arched her eyebrow again. "Intriguing." 

"Yeah, I'm a regular Botticelli." 

"Actually, I believe that was your mother." 

"Hah! You believe me!" 

"I believe nothing. However, it is logical to presume you know something about what has happened to Ensign Sato." 

"Only what I told you, T'Pol." 

"How do you know my name?" 

"Told you. I'm a god. Now will you help me?" 

"I do not know what I can do." 

"Well for one, you can talk to them. I can't. They can't see me, remember? Still don't know how you can..." 

T'Pol lowered her phaser and stood at ease. "I presume it has something to do with my Vulcan proclivity towards logic. It is... illogical for an invisible man to be floating on an invisible cloud in the screening room prior to an Abbott and Costello film." 

"I'll have to agree with you there." 

"How have you cured such ills in the past?" 

Cupid shrugged. "Well, that's the thing. I sort of.... haven't." 

"What do you mean?" 

"My mother usually cleans those things up for me. The ill-conceived marriages. The poorly timed love affairs. The accidental amorous leanings towards a goat or a pig or a grove of poplars..." 

"Perhaps you should contact your... mother about this." 

"NO!" 

T'Pol looked as taken aback as a Vulcan could look. "Why not?" 

Eros shifted uncomfortably. "She... Well, she more or less implied that if I screwed this up, she was going to... make life pretty miserable for me. Only in a divine way, so I'm thinking plagues of locusts and possibly something involving having my skin flayed for the next two hundred years. " 

"I see." 

"I bet you do." 

They stood quietly for a moment. 

"May I see your phaser?" 

Cupid looked up sharply. "Why?" he asked suspiciously, cuddling his phaser close to his hip. 

"I do not see a bow and arrow. Therefore I presume you shot Ensign Sato with your "phase arrow of love" using that phaser." She held out her hand. "May I examine it? It may provide us some clues." 

"Well... Okay." He handed over the phaser, releasing it reluctantly. He'd never liked sharing his toys, not even as a little cherub. 

T'Pol took the weapon and began looking it over with a practiced eye. "I believe I may have located your problem," she told him evenly. 

"What? How!" 

She held it up for his inspection. "There are two settings on a standard Starfleet issue phaser: stun and kill. The former issues less of a jolt than the latter. Your phaser is set to kill." 

Cupid paled. "You mean..." 

"It would appear you shot Ensign Sato with enough... love spell to kill." 

Eros groaned. _Now, remember,_ his mother had said, _keep the magic mellow. You throw too much at these humans and their heads are liable to explode from the lust._

"Kill me now," he whimpered. 

"We have already established that is impossible. Have you a plan to fix your mistake?" 

"No." 

"Then if you wish to avoid contacting your mother, I suggest you think of one. Quickly." 

//Like before my head explodes and I turn into a chicken,// he thought morosely. 

It really sucked being Love. 

  
  
_TBC...._


	3. Who Bloody Knew Dreams Could Come True?

**TITLE:** Hearts & Arrows  
_Chapter Three: Who Bloody Knew Dreams Could Come True?_  
**AUTHOR:** Mnemosyne  
**RATING:** PG-13  
**NOTES:** There's a bit of a POV switch in this chapter, with the incorporation of Malcolm's point of view into the mix. Up till now, the story's been told almost entirely from Cupid's angle, but honestly - do you think I'm going to pass up the chance to hear Malcolm's reaction to having a half-naked Hoshi Sato clambering all over him? Heck no! LOL! Enjoy! 

  


* * *

Surreal. That was the only word that could describe how Malcolm's night was progressing. Surreal and off-kilter. 

The cheering section crowded into Sickbay wasn't helping much, either. 

"What's wrong with her, doctor?" the armory officer found himself asking as he hovered near Doctor Phlox's elbow while the Denobulan ran several thorough scans of Hoshi's vital systems. He blatantly ignored the audience pressed up against the glass, watching them from another section of Sickbay. The Doctor had banished the movie crowd there while he worked on diagnosing Hoshi's problem. 

"Absolutely fascinating," was Phlox's reply. He tapped a few buttons on his PADD, then ran another scan. "Amazing." 

"What is!" Malcolm barked impatiently. "What is so bloody fascinating? Is she going to explode or what?" He'd never liked doctors, precisely because of their penchant for being so bloody cryptic all the time. _Absolutely fascinating,_ or _Amazing,_ or _Nothing to worry about at all, Lieutenant. Swelling of that type is only natural at this time of year for males in the prime of their sexual maturity._

"Ooooooh, Malcolm," Hoshi moaned from the table, her body rippling like waves on a river. "I just LOVE it when you're forceful." 

Malcolm was trying his best to ignore her, but it was getting ever more difficult. They'd had to cuff her to the biobed so Phlox could examine her. Admittedly, Malcolm had concocted plenty of fantasies over the years that featured Hoshi sprawled out on a bed in restraints, but nothing quite this… bizaare. And usually they involved quite a bit more privacy, and oodles more leather. 

"Explode? No," Phlox reassured him. "Though I'm sure she feels like she will, and soon. Her hormone levels are absolutely through the roof. I've never seen such elevated readings, not even in the Denobulan Stimwibbit during the height of its mating frenzy." 

"That sounds uncomfortable." 

"Oh, it is. Quite pleasant little creatures most of the time, but when they're ready to mate, stand back! They look something like toads with porcupine prickles and rabbit noses. Odd little things." 

"I didn't mean the bloody Stimwibbits, Doctor, I meant Hoshi's hormone levels." 

"Ah." 

"Isn't there something you can do for her?" 

The doctor tucked his PADD away in his pocket and crossed his hands in front of himself. "I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. Whatever has heightened Ensign Sato's hormones has also made the effect irreversible. I'm at a bit of a loss on what to do." 

"A bit of a loss? A bit of a BLOODY loss! Pull the other one, doctor. I'M the one she's gunning for, aren't I? Me! I can't have Ensign Sato clambering all over me during our bridge shifts, now can I? Or when we're off duty for that matter! It's fraternization, isn't it? I could be demoted for that!" He was getting stressed, which meant he was getting shrill. 

"Lieutenant, calm down." 

"I can't!" 

"You must. Overreaction isn't going to help the situation." 

Malcolm wheezed out a laugh. "I hardly think this is overreacting, Doctor," he said. "I think I'm bearing up admirably." 

"Mmmmmmm, I think you're WONDERFUL, Mally," Hoshi cooed, batting her lashes at him and straining at her wrist cuffs again. 

Malcolm swallowed. 

"Doctor? How's Hoshi?" 

Malcolm's back stiffened reflexively as Captain Jonathan Archer joined their group. The commanding officer looked deeply worried about his friend. Malcolm felt a flush of guilt that he was somehow responsible for that worry, even if he didn't know how. 

"Her hormone levels are off the scale, Captain," Phlox replied, filling in Archer in on the same information he'd provided Reed. 

"So there's nothing we can do for her?" The captain was obviously unhappy about that. 

"I'm not so sure about that, Captain." 

Both men looked at the doctor. "What?" Malcolm demanded. "What do you mean? I thought you said you were at a loss." 

"For a cure? Yes. For a temporary treatment until I can FIND a cure, I may have an idea. Though..." The Denobulan furrowed an alien eyebrow. 

"Yes, Doctor?" Archer pressed. "What's your suggestion?" 

"I'm afraid it would require Lieutenant Reed to... broach a few boundaries he may not be comfortable with, Captain, which is why I'm hesitant to share the idea." 

Reed felt his knees go weak, even as Hoshi squealed with delight. 

"Let's hear it, Doctor," Archer said with a sigh. "Lieutenant Reed's an honorable man. I'm sure he'll do whatever's necessary to help Ensign Sato." 

"As you wish, Captain," Phlox responded, and began to speak. 

  


* * *

  
Five minutes later, Malcolm was lightheaded, dizzy, and close to being sick to his stomach for the Nth time that day. 

"That's... an... interesting suggestion, Doctor," Archer said noncommitally. 

Phlox gave the two humans an unearthly grin. "Thank you, Captain." 

"A bit unorthodox, though." 

"Ensign Sato's ailment isn't textbook, sir. It requires unconventional therapy." 

"True." 

"Of course, her hormones have been stewing unabated for quite some time now, so the initial treatment will naturally take longer than subsequent doses. Might I suggest Lieutenant Reed be reassigned to Sickbay for the next day and a half or so? Or perhaps be given a leave of ab-" 

"Abso-bloody-lutely not!" Malcolm broke in, eyes darting between the Denobulan and his commanding officer. "Captain, I must protest! This is... depraved!" 

"Oooooh, depravity," Hoshi purred, and wiggled her legs invitingly. "Yummy." 

"Malcolm, calm down," Archer said soothingly. "No one's asking you to do anything improper." 

"Nothing improper? Sir, the good doctor has just described that very thing!" Malcolm turned to Phlox, eyes wild. "You want me to... lay HANDS on Ensign Sato?" 

"Lieutenant," Phlox replied calmly, "the few times you HAVE had physical contact with Hoshi since bringing her to Sickbay, her hormone levels have dropped noticeably. Those levels then immediately start to grow again upon loss of contact." 

"Can't I just... hold her hand or something?" 

"My theory is that the more prolonged and personal the touch, the greater the effect." 

"No one's asking you to do anything... unseemly, Lieutenant," Archer remarked. 

"For instance, I won't prescribe any sexual intercourse," the Doctor added off-handedly. 

Malcolm nearly choked on his tongue. "Hell's bells!" he yelped. 

"You'd prefer it if I did?" 

"NO!" 

"Fine then. Here." Phlox held out the data PADD he'd been tapping away at throughout his examination of Hoshi. Malcolm took it, and saw that the screen was filled with a detailed regimen of "acceptable" touch-related activities. //Hugging,// Malcolm read silently to himself, //holding hands, spooning, massage, INTIMATE massage...// 

He felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. "I think I'm going to be sick," he croaked. 

"Then you're in the right place." The Doctor grinned, and turned to the captain once more. "Do I have your permission to prescribe the treatment, Captain?" 

Jon looked unsure, but eventually nodded. "I don't see as there's any other way to curb the effects," he admitted. "If we can get her hormones down to a suitable level, perhaps we can get her lucid enough to tell us just what the hell happened to her." He turned to Malcolm. "Treat her right, Lieutenant," he said firmly. "Hoshi and I go way back. Understood?" 

Malcolm managed a weak nod. "Crystal, sir," he replied. 

"Good. Doctor, keep me apprised of the situation. I want to know the instant any progress - good or bad - has been made." 

Phlox nodded. "Certainly, Captain." 

"All right then." Jonathan glanced at Hoshi, who was currently pouting her lips in Malcolm's direction and flexing her pelvis at the armory officer. Malcolm wanted to crawl under a rock and die. "And Doctor?" 

"Yes?" 

Jon made a vague gesture in his comm officer's direction. "Get her some clothes to wear." 

"Right away, sir." 

Jonathan nodded, then exited slowly, glancing curiously over his shoulder a couple of times before finally leaving. He obviously wasn't used to seeing his friend so... wound up. Malcolm knew the feeling. 

"Right then," Phlox declared amiably, clapping his hands together and grinning at the tactical officer. "I'm sure you'll want a bit of privacy. Would you like to use the decon chamber? Or perhaps somewhere more comfortable. Your quarters?" 

Malcolm stared at the doctor. 

Then, without any ceremony and absolutely no warning, he bent forward over his knees and wretched all over the Denobulan's shoes. 

In the next room, the peanut gallery clapped. 

Hoshi pouted. "Oh, poor baby. Let me kiss it all better." 

Malcolm turned and bolted from the room. 

  


* * *

  
Meanwhile, back in the empty screening room, T'Pol and Cupid were thinking up a plan of action. Or rather, T'Pol was thinking. Cupid was pacing up and down like a caged lion. 

"What was that!" he yelped suddenly, coming to a standstill and scanning the room around them with wild eyes. 

"I heard nothing," T'Pol replied. 

"You didn't hear a little popping noise?" 

"No." 

"You sure?" 

"I assure you, I have excellent hearing. There was no popping noise, little or otherwise." 

"Well... Okay." He was unconvinced, but recommenced his pacing. "Think of anything yet?" 

T'Pol arched an eyebrow at him. It was an annoying little habit of hers. He debated - for the hundredth time - cursing her eyebrows away and leaving her with a bald forehead. But he was already in enough trouble without adding Vulcan baiting to the list. "If you are the god you purport to be," she argued composedly, "then it would seem the burden of planning would fall to you. I am unsure of how to counter sorcery, if sorcery is in fact what is at work here." 

Eros turned to her, hands on his hips. "Why won't you believe I'm a god?" he asked sulkily. 

"You have not yet provided me with adequate proof." 

"The floating on a cloud and invisibility thing didn't convince you?" 

"I have already explained that invisibility, in any form, is merely an illusion, not magic. And levitation, while unusual, can easily be accomplished through technological means." 

"And the shoulder thing?" 

"There are a number of alien races that possess remarkable healing abilities. You may be one such species." 

Cupid rolled his eyes. "Whatever. This isn't helping. We need results, and we need them fa- What was that!" He froze again, eyes darting left, right and center. 

"What was what?" 

"I heard something!" he whispered. 

"No you did not." 

"Yes I did!" 

"If your mother wished to do you harm, do you believe she would let you hear her approach?" 

Cupid whimpered. "I don't know. She's tricky." 

"Perhaps she has not seen you yet." 

"Perh- THAT'S IT!" 

T'Pol arched another eyebrow, but Cupid ignored it. "That is what?" she asked. 

"The answer! It's the eyes! Oh man, I don't know how I didn't think of it straight off! I'm such an idiot." 

"I will refrain from comment," T'Pol said drily. 

Eros ignored her and dug into his jumpsuit pocket, pulling out a slender cell phone. Flipping it open, he hit speed dial #5: _Obee and Ania_

T'Pol eyed the phone placidly. "What is that?" 

"A cell phone, Tee-pee," he said, feeling uncharacteristically cheerful considering the level of trouble he was in. "Early 21st century Earth technology. Massively outdated now, of course, but that doesn't matter. I mean, I'm a god. Do you KNOW how great that is for reception?" 

T'Pol said nothing, and Cupid listened as the line rang once... twice... three times... 

"Pick up," he muttered impatiently. "Come on, Obee, I know you're - Hey! Obee!" He grinned broadly as the other end of the line was picked up. "Long time no talk, buddy! How're the woods? ... Yeah? ... Oh, man, that sucks. ... Well, you know what they say - hindsight's twenty-twenty. Which is really deceptive, you know, since the last time I was at Delphi the oracle was pretty twenty-twenty with her FORESIGHT about that horse I bet on in the Olympian games. Remind me to never, EVER bet against a centaur when it comes to horseflesh, all right? Hey, actually, while I'm chatting with you and all, I wonder if I could ask you a favor? ... No, no, no, nothing like THAT, Obee. Nope, I learned my lesson with that last time. Honest. Really! ... Yeah, yeah, I know. Look, I've said I'm sorry so many times now, it's gone out of style. ... Well they grew back, didn't they? So why're you complaining! ... Oh. Ouch. ... Okay, I'm sorry. AGAIN. Now can we talk about MY problems for a minute? ... Yeah, well, the fact of the matter is, I did a little of my mojo, but something went massively haywire and now I've got to UNDO it, which means I need that little herb of yours. ... No, no, not the purple flower. I'm the God of Love, Obee, why would I need love juice? ... Look, I don't have a lot of time to argue with you, Obee. You're the only one who can hook me up with the stuff, and I'm willing to do anything to get it, and FAST. Just ask, and I'll deliver. ... Obee! Dude, that's inhuman! ... Well... Yeah, okay, so you're not human. ... Okay, okay, neither am I. ... Fine! Sheesh. Remind me not to send you a casserole next Solstice, Mister Bitter. ... Uh-huh .... Uh-huh ... Awesome. All right, Obee, I'll be there lickity-split to get the merchandise. ... Okay. Thanks man, I owe you big. ... Yeah, I know you're going collect. ... No, I'm not leaving town anytime soon. Why do you ask? ... Obee! You wound me. You really, really wound me. Look, give my best to Ania and the little ones, all right? I'll see you soon! And Obee, I do mean SOON. Later!" 

Eros flipped the phone shut and tucked it back in his pocket. "Man," he muttered, shaking his head and looking at T'Pol. "You immortalize the guy in ONE Shakespearean play* - ONE! - and he suddenly thinks he's, like, king of the world or something. The guy's on a total ego trip, I swear. But he's got what we need!" It was all he could do to keep from squealing with glee. "T'Pol, babe, we are on our WAY!" 

"Do not call me _babe_." 

"Fine, whatever, Miss Thunderhead. You're not going to rain on my parade! All I've got to do is teleport over to Oberon's little villa, pick up some of his healing herbs, come back, do a little eye-swabbing, and bingo! The God of Love is back in business, and no one's ever the wiser." He crossed his arms smugly over his stomach. "Am I good or what?" 

"Your pocket is smoking." 

The response was so unexpected, Cupid had to blink. "What?" 

T'Pol nodded to the hip of his jumpsuit. "Your pocket," she reiterated, "is smoking." 

Looking down, Cupid was shocked and amazed to discover that the Vulcan was right. His pocket was, in fact, smoking. Rather like a chimney, actually. 

"What in Hades...?" Reaching in, he carefully pulled out his cell phone with two fingers. It fell out of his grip and clattered to the floor, before bursting into flames. 

"Intriguing," T'Pol remarked. 

Eros, meanwhile, felt himself go white as a ghost. "Oh... no," he whispered hoarsely. He watched with wide eyes as the burning cell phone suddenly exploded; but instead of sending pieces of smoldering plastic and metal spraying in all directions, the obliterated phone sent out a burst of sweet smelling, vanilla scented rose petals. 

"More intriguing," T'Pol said. 

"Oh... crap," Cupid groaned, covering his face with one hand. "She knows!" 

  
  
_TBC..._

  
_*For those who might not be familiar with Shakespeare, the play Cupid references is "A Midsummer Night's Dream." Obee and Ania are, respectively, Oberon, King of the Fairies, and Titania, his queen. Oberon used the juice of a special purple flower to make Titania fall in love with Bottom - a man made to look like a donkey - as punishment for an argument he and the queen were having. He later cured the love potion by swabbing her eyes with special herbs which lifted the enchantment and made her see clearly again. It is THESE herbs that poor Cupid is after, if his mother doesn't feed him to pigeons first. LOL!_


	4. The Art of Massage

**TITLE:** Hearts & Arrows  
_Chapter Four: The Art of Massage_  
**AUTHOR:** Mnemosyne  
**RATING:** R  
**NOTES:** Hey there, everyone! You might have noticed the rating for this chapter has been bumped up from PG-13 to an R, thanks to some suggestive situations, courtesy of Hoshi "Hot Lips" Sato. ;) Nothing graphic, but certainly a bit steamier than previous chapters. ;) You could characterize this installment as "sweet" (and hopefully, in parts, "sexy"), rather than out-and-out "funny," though I've certainly tried to throw in the humor, especially in the beginning. After all, even comedies have to have their more dramatic moments, right? :-D If this doesn't do it for you, never fear - the comedy will be back in full force for the next chapter! :-D 

  


* * *

  
"Unbelievable! Inconceivable! Absolutely indescribable! I'm the laughing stock of Olympus now, did you know that? I, the all-powerful Goddess of Love and Beauty, am the LAUGHING STOCK OF THE ENTIRE MOUNTAIN! It was hard enough trying to get them to respect me in the first place, what with the hair and the fluffy clothes and the incurable addiction to Meg Ryan movies. But this? This is the last straw. The absolute LAST STRAW. And it is ALL your fault, junior. It is entirely. Your! FAULT!" 

Cupid winced away from his mother's tirade as the enraged goddess stomped back and forth in front of him. Immediately after his phone had exploded, he'd suddenly found himself POOFed away from the _Enterprise_ and POOFed back to his mother's illustrious palace. Aphrodite, suffice it to say, was a gorgeous ball of green eyed fury when her son arrived. That had been an hour ago, and she hadn't let him get a word in edgewise the entire time. Much as Eros wanted to interrupt and tell her that he had a plan to make everything right again, he knew that trying to interpose on the irate goddess would most likely just fetch him a one way ticket to Tartarus for the summer, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dinars. 

"…and then HERA - yes, old goat face herself - HERA told me that if I couldn't keep my own son in line, then perhaps she needed to appoint a MINDER for you. A MINDER! As if the Goddess of Love were somehow incapable of controlling the actions of her own SON!" She snorted. "Well, I told her to shove her minder where Helios is loathe to tread, not that he could fit, since she's so INSANELY anal, and she took that pretty badly. But then Hera never took much WELL, not even in her heyday. I was feeling quite proud of myself then, until Artemis decided to get on her high horse and start preaching about how love is a preposterous waste of time, blah, blah, men are pigs, yadda, yadda, all hail the conquering hoardes of her royal majesty, Queen Bitchalot, etc, etc…" 

This was getting ridiculous. Cupid loved his mother to pieces - it was kind of hard not to, since she WAS Love - but she was a talker. If he let her, she'd keep hemming and hawing and carrying on until the next millenium rolled around, and he just couldn't have that. There were things that needed doing, and they needed doing quickly, and if he was going to get them done, he needed to do them now. So for the first time in his eternal life, Cupid decided to do something very brave. 

He interrupted his mother. 

"Um, mommy?" he broke in quietly, careful to keep his face and voice appropriately humble. "May I say something?" 

Aphrodite's mouth snapped shut and she stared at him with what could only be disguised as open disbelief. Cupid decided to capitalize on the momentary silence, and started speaking. He had to talk quickly, before she started up again, so his words tumbled over each other like a stampede of wild boar. "You see, I hear what you're saying, and I'm very sorry mommy, and that was a great jibe at Hera, good for you, but you see, I actually have a plan to fix everything, and I came up with it all on my own, although the Vulcan helped me a little, she's really not that bad, once you get to know her, and I already called Oberon to set everything up, and all I need to do is swing by his pad and pick up the herbs, and then I just have to go back to _Enterprise_ and do a little sprinkle with the magic dust, and bingo, problem solved, so you see, keeping me here is just compounding the problem that you brought me here to discuss in the first place, so don't you think it'd just be best for everyone if you transported me back to _Enterprise_ so I can get on with fixing this stupid, stupid, idiot mistake I made, and then you can go tell the rest of the Pantheon how smart your son is, and everything can be right with the world again? Mommy? Don't you think?" He was panting and out of breath by the time he finished his explanation, so he took a minute to gasp in some much needed air. 

Venus, in the meantime, was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head, and that second head was playing a concertina with its nose. "You mean… I'm not going to have to fix this for you?" she said, quite obviously awestruck by the prospect. 

Eros shook his head firmly. "I'm a grown god now, mommy," he reminded her. "I should be taking care of my own problems, not running to you to clean them up for me." 

The admission made her angelic green eyes grow even wider, and suddenly fill with tears. "My baby's growing up!" she crooned, scampering forward and wrapping him in a tight, sweet-smelling hug. Everywhere her tears fell, a pristine white rose blossomed unbidden from the ground. 

Cupid blushed. "Mom, quit it," he said self-consciously, awkwardly returning her hug. 

"I always knew you'd grow up to be a good boy, Cupie. Even when you were in your terrible two-thousands and I had to spank you for being so naughty with those Montagues and Capulets." 

"Mooooom, stop it," he protested, blushing even darker. 

"Oh, the wheedling I had to do with your grand-uncle Hades to get those two into the Elysian Fields! All because you were such a naughty, naughty, sweet, dear, wonderful little cherub-pookie bear!" She showered her son's face with kisses. 

"Mooooooooooooom!' he whined, prying himself out of her embrace and scrubbing at his face. "Come on, I'm not a little baby anymore!" 

"You'll always be my little baby, pookie!" 

He winced. "Pookie" was even worse than "Junior." 

"Can I go now, mommy?" he asked, pouting a little. "I have all kinds of things to do, and people to help, and I can't do them standing around here." 

Venus beamed at him. "You can leave," she told him, but held up a finger before he could teleport himself away, "but I don't want you going just yet." 

Cupid's jaw dropped. "Huh?" he said. "Why not!" 

The goddess clucked her tongue and shook her divine head. "Tsk, tsk, pookie," she cooed, pinching his cheek in a motherly fashion. He batted her hand away, embarrassed. "That's the one thing you've NEVER learned about humans. You with your bow and arrow and blunt force trauma to the heart." Smiling fondly, she took her son gently by the arm and led him towards the edge of her heart-shaped pool. 

"Humans don't need to be hit over the head with love, pookie," she told him quietly, kneeling beside the pool and tugging him down with her. "The capacity for love is always with them; even in the sourest of sour individuals. It's buried in every human heart, waiting to be nudged to the surface by a look, a touch, a word. All it takes is a little finesse." 

Reaching out, she touched a delicate finger to the surface of the water. It rippled, then reformed into an image of Malcolm and Hoshi. The communications officer was stretched out on her stomach in the lieutenant's bed, naked to the waist, blankets pooled around her hips, head pillowed on her arms. Malcolm knelt beside her on the mattress, bent forward slightly as his hands kneaded tenderly at her shoulders, then slid soothingly down her back to massage her hips. 

"You see?" Aphrodite murmured, as Cupid watched, transfixed. "Even this - a mistake - is enough to bring that spark of love to the surface. Do you see how carefully he touches her? Do you see how much she enjoys his touch? Much as he worries about what he's doing, he doesn't do it unwillingly. And your love dart would not have had such a strong effect if she felt no stirrings of love for him from the start." Tilting her head to the side, the goddess smiled at her son. "They can't continue like this indefinitely, but a short time won't hurt. It may even help." She smiled at the couple reflected in the pool. "Finesse." 

Cupid smiled when he saw Hoshi giggle as Malcolm's fingers brushed over a ticklish spot. "I told Oberon I'd stop in to pick up those herbs," he mused quietly, not looking away from his study of the scene unfolding before him. "But he can wait a while. Ever since that little mix-up a few years back, he's been a bit testy with me anyway." 

"Poor choice of words, pookie." 

"Oh, yeah. Er… Whoops." 

  


* * *

  
Malcolm was having a difficult time deciding just exactly what he was supposed to be feeling right now. On the one hand, he was in heaven, running his oil-slicked hands up and down Hoshi's toned, supple back, grazing his thumbs along the ridge of her spine. Conversely, he wanted to jump up from the bed, scurry to the bathroom, and hack his own hands off with a utility shaving razor. 

It was a very confusing state to be in. 

Hoshi, however, didn't seem to have ANY indecision about her situation at the moment. In fact, she seemed intent on telling him - quite loudly, and in quite explicit terms - just how exactly he was making her feel. 

"Ohhhhhh, God, yes," she moaned as his fingers probed a particularly tight knot of muscles under her left shoulder blade. "Mmmmmm… You make the soles of my feet tingle, Emmy bear," she purred. "You should have been a masseuse." 

"Oh yes, I can just imagine how father would have reacted to THAT cheerful bit of news," he murmured, making circular patterns in the oil on her back with his fingertips. "Gosh, sorry, dad. I'm going to throw away generations of tradition and familial history and blow it all on a massage parlor in Baton Rouge. Hope you don't mind, there's a good chap." 

Hoshi laughed, a trilling, bubbly sound, and Malcolm couldn't resist grinning in response. "You're so funny, too," she enthused, looking over her shoulder at him with dark eyes. "You could have had a massage parlor slash comedy club." 

"Now you're just being silly," he said with a grin. 

"But it's making you smile, so that's good." She beamed at him, then pushed up on her elbows. Malcolm quickly averted his eyes to make sure he couldn't see any of her more… tantalizing bits. He focused intently on her back. "May I have a foot rub?" 

Malcolm frowned and looked up. He made sure to keep his eyes riveted to her face without drifting downwards. "Why?" 

"You have such nice hands. I want to feel them all over my body." 

He swallowed. "Well…" 

"Pleeeeeeease?" She wiggled closer to him, bumping her hip against his knee and arching to the side a little, rubbing her head plaintively against his arm. 

He moaned. He couldn't help it. A very naked, very wily, very sexually hungry Hoshi Sato was rubbing up against him like a cat at a scratching post; this was someone's sick idea of torture, he was certain. For a moment, he let himself wonder just which alien god he'd managed to piss off since starting this voyage that would choose to torment him thusly. Then he decided that what with the number of ships, comets, asteroids and bits of space debris he'd blown up in his years aboard _Enterprise_, it was hopeless to try and narrow down the list of potentials. 

"Hang on," he relented, sliding his hands away from her body and sitting back on his heels. "I have to check the PADD." 

"Awwwwww, why do you have to keep checking that stupid old thing?" she pouted, idly kicking her feet as he clambered off the bed and went to his desk. 

"Because I value my life, my career, and my unspoilt body," the armory officer replied as he picked up Phlox's data PADD and began scrolling through the list of acceptable touch activities. "All of which are forfeit if the captain finds out I've been doing anything improper during our… time together. Now, foot rub," he muttered to himself as he watched the items roll by. "Foot rub, foot rub, foot rub. Foot rub, foot rub, my kingdom for a foot rub." 

Hoshi giggled again. Malcolm smiled. 

"Ah, here we go." He held the PADD up for her distant inspection. "Foot rub. Screen six, fifth option from the bottom." Setting the handheld computer down again, he climbed back onto the bed and sat near her feet. "Okay, flip over." 

She did. 

"COVER UP! COVER UP FIRST!" Malcolm howled, throwing an arm across his eyes as The Wonder That Was Hoshi's Chest was revealed for the world and its brother to see. 

"I'll get massage oil all over your blankets," the comm officer said reasonably. 

"You could roll in marmalade and a pile of goose feathers before snuggling under my blankets, Hoshi," he told her, counting slowly and deliberately to ten, "and I wouldn't care, so long as you kept the blankets tucked high and tight under your arms." 

"I'll have to remember that for the future," she commented as she positioned the blankets over her naked upper body. "Especially that bit about the jelly." 

Malcolm swallowed. She'd been getting remarkably more lucid as their session had progressed, and she sounded just enough like her normal self in that sentence that he was almost inclined to believe she meant it. "Your feet, madame?" he said, trying to dislodge the image of Naked Hoshi Drenched in Marmalade from his head. 

Giggling, the ensign wiggled her feet until they protruded from the bottom of the blanket. They were small and pale, with delicate pink soles and slender ankles. Malcolm swallowed, and gently lifted her left foot into his lap. "Could you pass me down the oil?" he asked quietly, hoping his voice wasn't squeaking like a schoolboy's. He took the bottle as she handed it down to him and poured a bit more into his palms. Rubbing them together, he wrapped his hands around her foot, pressing his thumbs into the arch, and began to knead. 

The effect was immediate. Hoshi threw her head back, arched her spine, and moaned. "Oh, gawwwwwwwwd…!" She whimpered and wriggled her toes as he kept up the steady rhythm of his hands. "Yes… Oh yesssss… Right there, Malcolm… Mmmmmmmm…" 

The armory officer watched the twitching and occasional rippling of her body with ill-hidden fascination. Hoshi Sato had always been something of an enigma to him, although he was certain he knew her personality inside and out. But this - this had always been a mystery. What it was like to touch her; how she liked to be touched. He'd spent entire sleepless nights trying to decide if she'd prefer having her shoulders massaged or her hair brushed on any given night. In a way, this curse was a backwards blessing - a chance for him to discover all the things Hoshi Sato liked, so that when she regained her senses at some point, he would have some way of getting back into her good graces. After much groveling and pained silences at the supper table, of course. He had no doubts about THAT. 

A particularly throaty moan from the ensign jarred him from his thoughts, and he realized with horror that his hands had moved up from her foot and were currently working on her calf. He released her leg as if it had burned him. 

"Why'd you do that…!" Hoshi yelped, gazing down at him, eyes puzzled. "It felt good!" 

"The data PADD said foot rub," Malcolm said nervously. "It didn't say anything about shin rub, calf rub, thigh rub, or… well, it didn't mention other things getting rubbed at all." Gingerly, he lifted her other foot and began giving it the same attention as the first. "Best not to run away with the poetic license." 

There was silence for a moment as Malcolm focused entirely on Hoshi's foot. He made sure to keep his mind - and in turn, his hands - from wandering by counting each swipe of his thumbs over the sole of her foot. _One… two… three…_

"Why are you so afraid?" 

The tactical officer looked up sharply, blue eyes meeting Hoshi's liquid black ones. "What?" he asked. 

She tilted her head, considering him quietly. "You're afraid of me," she replied. "I don't know why, but you are. Do you think I'm going to hurt you?" 

"Wha…? I… Well, no. Not HURT precisely. I…" He stopped talking and looked down helplessly. 

She wiggled her toes to get his attention, and he looked up again. "I'm not going to bite, you know," she said softly, giving him a gentle smile. "I know what's happening here. I know you think I don't, but I'm not stupid. I'm a little hazy, like I've been walking through a thick fog, but that doesn't mean I can't see my feet. I know that throwing myself at you is out of character, and I know that you're trying your hardest not to take advantage of the situation. But did you ever stop to ask yourself if maybe I WANT you to take advantage of it?" 

Malcolm swallowed again, harder this time. "But Hoshi, that's the problem," he tried to explain. "You want me to… do these things with you, but… Hoshi, you aren't yourself. You don't know what you're saying." 

"Are you so sure?" 

"Hoshi…." 

"Are you so sure, Malcolm?" 

He desperately wanted to bite his lip, but decided that would be too childish. It was getting harder and harder to stick to his principles now, confronted as he was by her quietly determined gaze. 

"I… don't know," he finally admitted. 

A small smile twitched on Hoshi's lips. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe, out of character as it seemed, all this flirting and innuendo has been something I've wanted to do for a long time? Perhaps - just perhaps - whatever this thing is that's affected me hasn't turned me into a ravening sex fiend. Perhaps it's just made me see - and you see - something that was there all along." 

Her eyes were so soft, yet firm. Malcolm wanted nothing more than to believe every word she was saying. He wanted to wrap his hands around them and yank them out of the air, then store them deep in the back of his memory, for warmth on cold nights visiting his spinster aunts in the North country. 

"Hoshi…" he managed to mumble. 

"Kiss me, Malcolm," she said softly. 

He balked. "I -" he began, but she cut him off. 

"Don't think, just act," she told him, a little firmer this time. "Kiss me." 

His eyes darted to the PADD on his desk. 

"Don't think about the list," she said, seeing his eyes move. "Don't think about anything. Don't think about Phlox or Jonathan or Trip or T'Pol. Don't think about anything outside of this bed; you, me, a bottle of oil, and some rumpled blankets." She tilted her head, her luxurious black hair tumbling around her shoulders like midnight waterfalls. "What do you want to do to me?" 

He stared at her for a long second. Then, carefully, he placed his hands on her legs, one on each ankle. Slowly, he began to run his slick palms up her calves, moving the blankets higher as he did so. 

Hoshi's eyes grew darker. "That's right," she murmured, never breaking their eye contact. "This is instinct." 

It was. He could feel his hot blood pumping, hammering away in his veins like a herd of elephants. Someone growled. It took him a moment to realize it was him. 

"I want this, Malcolm," Hoshi purred, hooding her eyes seductively, one hand playing idly along the edge of the blanket that covered her chest. "This isn't a joke. This isn't a trick. I really, really want this. I want you. Please?" Inch by inch, she let the covers start to slide. 

He moved like a leopard, throwing himself up the bed to cover her body like a tent, hemming her in with his arms and legs. "You're a temptress, my lady," he murmured, his hot breath disturbing her eyelashes. "You want to make me betray who I am, what I am, and what I believe. You want me to throw away the relationship I have with my Hoshi just to feed your hunger, and future perfect be damned." With a low growl, he bent forward and nipped at her temple with his teeth. He felt her gasp slightly beneath him. 

"Two can play at that game, lady," he whispered near her ear. "I won't give you what you're asking for, but I'll give you what you need. And when my Hoshi - the real Hoshi - reemerges from this fog you spoke of, I think she'll understand that I did what I did to keep from doing more." Burying his face in her shoulder, he sucked fiercely on the pulse point that fluttered like an exuberant bird at the crook of her neck. 

"God, yes…!" she whimpered, almost a plea, as her arms wrapped around him and her legs hooked around his hips. 

"None of that, Hoshi," he told her firmly, reaching down with one hand to push her legs away. "Don't you know I know a thousand ways to blow your mind without resorting to THAT?" He grinned down into her face. "And I'm going to show you each one in excruciating detail." 

She shivered with anticipation. "How do we start?" she asked breathlessly. 

He stopped and considered her for a moment. Then, he smiled. "I rather thought we could start… with something like this." 

Cupping her face gently in one hand, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. After a moment, he heard her moan, and felt her body press up against him, inexorable like a tidal wave, as her mouth moved over his in firm, hungry ripples. 

As first kisses went, he could safely say, it blew all the competition away. 

  
_TBC…_


	5. The Part Where Our Intrepid Heroes Final...

**TITLE:** Hearts & Arrows  
_Chapter Five: The Part Where Our Intrepid Heroes Finally Get Some Luck (or Just Get Lucky)_  
**AUTHOR:** Mnemosyne  
**RATING:** PG-13  


  


* * *

  
T'Pol was meditating quietly in her quarters when Cupid returned. 

"Hey, Tee-pee!" the god enthused, beaming at her as he flashed into existence in front of her bunk. "Hey, niiiiice lotus position. Look, sorry to jet on you like that - Mom sort of read me the riot act. But that's all okay now, because I told her my plan and she got all gooshy and happy and everything's fine with her now. Then I hopped over to Obee's place and got the magic herb," he waved a small, drawstring sack woven of golden thread in front of her placid features, "and we are good to go! Frankly, I think it's just some fancy shmancy oregano he's put the whammy on to make him look all important, but I'm not going to say anything. I'm just glad he didn't stiff me for it!" He paused in his explication and cocked his head curiously at her. "T'Pol? Hello? Helloooooo, Olympus to T'Pol." He waved his hand in front of her eyes. "You in there, T'Pol'san?" 

Chocolate brown eyes raised to look at him. "I am here." Slowly, she stood, body unfolding like a pocket knife. 

"Phew!" Eros wiped a hand across his brow. "Man, thought I'd gone all Claude Raines on you or something. You know, they never really mention it in the movie, but in order to be invisible, the Invisible Man has to be the NAKED Invisible Man. Don't you think that's weird? I mean, I don't mind flashing the wedding tackle now and then, but I'm a god, so I can more or less get away with that kind of thing. Unless Psyche finds out, then holy Gaia - stay out of the way! There was this one time I saw a particularly foxy Naiad, and I was all, _Hey, baby, what's your sign?_ and she was all _Aquarius_, and I was all, _Hey, I know him! No offense, babe, but he's a bit of a wet blanket._ Get it? The water bearer? Wet blanket? Yeah, I thought it was pretty funny, too. So I was in good with her, then Psyche came along and went NUTS. I mean, she went PSYCHO-" 

He was cut off by T'Pol smacking him - very hard - on the arm. 

"OWWW!" he howled, jumping back and fiercely rubbing his bicep where she'd slapped him. "What in Hades name did you do that for!" he demanded, flexing his arm a few times to try and diffuse the pain. 

"You disappeared quite suddenly and with no explanation," the Vulcan explained calmly. "Therefore I was led to believe that I had been hallucinating our encounter. I returned to my quarters to meditate on the problem, before seeking Doctor Phlox's diagnosis. When you reappeared, I was unsure whether you were corporeal or merely another mirage." 

"And you figured clocking me was the only way to determine how real I am?" 

"Yes." 

"You couldn't have ASKED me first?" 

"If you were a hallucination, it would be illogical to… ask your permission prior to…" 

"Prior to assaulting me? Yeah, well, SOME species have enough manners to ask anyway!" He scowled at her. "Bet you still don't believe I'm a god, either." 

"I am not entirely sure you are even real." 

Cupid rolled his eyes. "Look, you can continue to live in your little fantasy world, if you like. Personally, **_I_** have a job to do." Reaching into the drawstring bag, he withdrew a pinch of the magical herb. "This is my ticket to a happy eternity, T'Pol," he told her, tossing the little bag onto her bunk and staring at the spice clinched between his fingers. 

"What if it does not work?" 

"You're too negative, T'Pol," he said, clucking his tongue and standing straight to stare her in the eyes. "Nothing's going to go wrong. We're golden." 

"And if it does?" 

"Look, quit thinking that way, all right? You're making me nervous." 

"It is best to have a contingency plan in such affairs." 

"It is best for nosy Vulcans to shut their traps and quit yapping like constipated Shi Tzus in such affairs, too!" He knew he was being unnecessarily snappish with her, but she'd disturbed his inner pool of calm, and since he was a god, the ripples were staggering. "Just wait here, smarty spandex, and you'll see the awesome power of a god at work. Begone!" With a snap of his spare fingers, he disappeared. 

Thirty seconds later, he was back. 

"Hang on," he said, fetching another pinch of spice from the bag. "Okay, let's try again. Begone!" Again, he vanished. 

Twenty seconds later, he reappeared. 

"The heck…" he muttered, staring at the bag. "Obee, you two timing fairy bastard, what'd you do to my herbs!" 

"Is there a problem?" T'Pol asked calmly. 

"What?" he snapped. "No! Nothing's wrong at all. Leave me alone! Sheesh, no need to get so invasive." 

She arched an eyebrow. 

"Cut that out!" 

"Cut what out?" 

"The eyebrow thingy! It makes me feel guilty, like I've done something terribly, horribly wrong." 

"Have you?" 

"Yes! I mean, no! I mean, it's not my fault!" Picking up the bag, he thrust it toward her. "Obee made them transmorphic!" 

T'Pol began to arch her eyebrow again, then thought better of it and merely took the bag from him. "What is transmorphic?" she asked. 

"It means they can pass through solid matter." He pouted. It wasn't fair. The perfect plan, ruined by an egotistical sour puss. "Everytime I try to sprinkle the stuff on Hoshi's eyelids, it just passes through her face and then her mattress, and piles up on the floor." 

"Intriguing." 

"Yeah. Intriguing. If by intriguing you mean a HUGE FRIGGING DISASTROUS NIGHTMARE!" With a groan, he flopped down on the bed and covered his face with his hands. 

"Mom's going to have a fit," he muttered. 

  


* * *

  
Two hours later, Cupid was still sulking on T'Pol's bed, while the Vulcan, curled into a customary position, meditated quietly on the floor. In truth, Cupid wasn't so much sulking as he was practicing excuses and winsome faces. Whenever his mother had been particularly angry with him in the past, all he'd had to do was flash her his big, knee-buckling smile, make a few cherubic comments about her beauty, intelligence, and taste in hair care products, then find her a REALLY big present with lots of glitter on it; preferably diamond glitter. Preferably just plain diamond. 

He didn't think that was going to help him this time, though. For the first time in his very long life, he was troubled. Venus had been honestly excited about how he was handling the Hoshi situation, and he really did want to impress his mother. Impressing didn't include scurrying home like a shamefaced lobster and begging for help. 

Besides, he'd already given her the Coeur de la Mer for her last Emerging From the Sea Foam Day, so he was sapped for good jewelry ideas. Yeah, he'd had to steal the necklace away from Uncky Poseidon, but what was the old man going to do with a huge blue diamond anyway? Use it as a fishing lure? Besides, if some old woman was going to be silly enough to toss something THAT VALUABLE into the ocean, then it should at least go to someone who was going to appreciate it. And if, along the way, he had been able to smooth over that little Britney/Justin break-up affair, then who would be the wiser? 

"I believe I have solved your problem." 

Eros stared vacantly at the Vulcan for a moment. Then, shaking his head to rouse himself from his depressed thoughts, he STARED at her. "What? How?" She'd been so quiet, he thought she was asleep. 

Standing gracefully, the Vulcan crossed the few steps between herself and the bed and picked up Cupid's discarded pouch of herbs. "The herbs do not pass through the bag," she told him evenly. "Therefore they exist in some corporeal form." 

"What help does that give me, Tee-pee, if I can't get them from the bag to the target?" 

Calmly, T'Pol tugged open the drawstring mouth of the bag, reached in two long, slender fingers, and withdrew a pinch of spice. 

Cupid stared. 

"I believe this amount is satisfactory?" she queried, arching an eyebrow. 

Cupid continued to stare at her hand, mouth slightly agape. It was an undignified position for a god to be in, but he'd never really cared much about manners. "H… How…?" he jibbered, pointing at her fingers as he dragged his eyes up to stare dazedly into her eyes. 

"Logic." 

"Wha'?" 

T'Pol considered him blandly for a second, then continued. "Based on what you have told me of Oberon, it appears the King of the Fairies sees you as an imbecile with little capacity for logical thought. In this regard, he is true." 

Eros blinked, then sat up. "Hey!" 

Before he could argue further, T'Pol continued. "Love is seldom related to logic. Logical marriage, for example, would be that which is arranged for the purposes of peace, property or personal gain. Humans have long frowned on such arrangements, choosing instead to focus entirely on such obscure romantic concepts as _true love_ and _love at first sight_." She arched an eyebrow in obvious disregard. "As a result of this dependency, you, as an embodiment of love, have matured into a flighty deity with little in the way of common sense." 

"All right, all right," Cupid muttered, crossing his arms petulantly. "I could hit you with a thunderbolt, you know." 

"May I continue?" 

"By all means." 

"Oberon, aware of your character, tricked you into believing he had bewitched your herbs. In actuality, he bewitched you." 

Cupid blinked and sat up straighter. "But I'm a god!" he protested. "He's just a fairy king!" 

"And yet he is the only one in possession of the herbs you need to reverse your own magic." 

Cupid frowned thoughtfully. "Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. 

"However, Oberon was not aware of one important fact." 

"Which is…?" 

"Me." 

A slow grin spread across the god's face. "Logic," he said smugly. 

"Precisely." T'Pol returned her pinch of spice to the pouch and closed it tightly. "In this situation, logic demands we ask one question." 

"What's that?" 

"If the herbs go through physical matter, why not the bag?" 

Cupid was beaming now. "So that clockwork Vulcan mind of yours started working like crazy, until you came up with an answer!" 

T'Pol nodded once. "It is just a theory." 

"A theory that's going to save my hide!" Bounding up off the bed, Cupid picked up the surprised Vulcan and spun her around in an enormous bear hug. "T'Pol, you are a GENIUS!" 

"Please put me down." 

"I'd make you a god in thanks, but we already have one Vulcan, and it'd get confusing." 

"Please put me down." 

"He's also known as Hephaestus, but that's too hard to spell, so we call him Vulcan on all our important godly documents." 

"Eros?" 

"Mmm?" 

"Please. Put. Me. Down." 

"Oh! Right." He hastily set her back on her feet. 

"Thank you," she said drily. 

"Not a problem." He grinned at her. "Now all I've got to do is voom you to Malcolm's quarters, then you can work the magic on Hoshi, and bingo! All's well that ends well, bring us the umbrella drinks and sit back to watch the sunset." 

There was the dratted eyebrow again. "I cannot do this for you," T'Pol said with maddening calmness. 

"And why not?" 

"I am not convinced you are real," she told him. "This entire conversation may simply be a delusion, brought on by too much time spent with Commander Tucker." 

"What the Tartarus does he have to do with anything?" 

"He is an infuriating man. It is possible he has driven me insane." 

Cupid rolled his eyes. "Look," he said, holding his hands out to her, "just do this one thing, okay? Just this. Believe in it or don't, I don't care, so long as you DO it. If it's not real, no harm done. If it IS, though, then not only have you helped your friends, but you've saved the skin of a god and made him very, VERY indebted to you. Honestly, what's the harm?" A sly twinkle flared in his eyes. "It's only logical, right?" 

When she lowered the eyebrow, he knew he'd won. 

  


* * *

  
Malcolm was balanced on a wonderfully warm line somewhere between ecstasy and heaven. For the first time in his life, he didn't feel the urge to move, think or concentrate on anything at all. In fact, he was inclined to do exactly the OPPOSITE of all of those. 

Except the last one, actually, because Hoshi Sato was sleeping peacefully in his arms, and he very much wanted to concentrate on THAT. 

Not for the first time, he found his eyes tracing the delicate curve of her ear, trailing down the column of her neck and up over the smooth rise of her shoulder. He was spooned up against her back, one arm above the blankets, curled protectively around her slender torso. Under the sheets, he was still in his boxers - somehow, he'd managed to keep them on, despite all of Hoshi's protests to the contrary. Though towards the end, she hadn't been protesting too loudly, or too often. All those one-nighters at the Six Oh Two Club had taught him PLENTY. 

"Mmmm, cinnamon buns," Hoshi murmured, shifting in her sleep. Malcolm grinned as she moved in his arms. He was doing that a lot - grinning. Grinning when she moved. Grinning when she mumbled. Grinning when she breathed. He fancied he must have looked something like a great skinny gargoyle to any outsiders who might have chanced to see him. He didn't grin often, but when he did, it was full frontal. 

He was just beginning to doze, visions of Hoshi dressed as a sugar plum dancing in his head, when there was a bright flash of light - as if someone had cut the air with a bolt of lightning - and then T'Pol was there. 

"Sub-Commander?" he asked groggily, trying to rouse his soggy brain. 

"Oom-pah-pah, oom-pah-pah," she replied in her usual matter-of-fact tone as she leaned over the edge of the bed. "Boom chaka laka laka hey." 

Malcolm blinked. "What?" 

"Oh Danny boy," she continued, as if she didn't hear him, extending one slim hand over Hoshi's face and sprinkling something onto the sleeping comm officer's eyes. 

"Sub-Commander, WHAT are you doing here?" he asked, more stridently this time, as he pushed himself up onto one elbow, careful not to jar the ensign awake. "And why are you … seasoning … Hoshi?" _Seasoning_ didn't have quite the threatening ring to it he'd intended, but he was under pressure. 

T'Pol took a step away from the bed and stared down at him with placid eyes. Then, quite suddenly, she began to… 

Oh, bloody hell. 

"Dale a tu cuerpo alegria, Macarena." 

There was something obscenely peculiar about watching T'Pol hop about like a lunatic rabbit. 

"Que tu cuerpo es pa' darle alegria y cosa buena." 

Malcolm had been through quite enough peculiarity for one day, thank you very much. 

"Dale a tu cuerpo alegria, Macarena." 

"Reminder to self," he muttered, lying down again. "No more salsa before bed." 

T'Pol appeared to raise an eyebrow in response to his comment, but didn't stop dancing. 

"Ehhhh, Macarena." 

As she clapped her hands, there was another blinding flash, and she was gone. 

Malcolm grunted, satisfied, and closed his eyes. "Bloody dreams," he muttered, burying his face in Hoshi's sweet-smelling hair, already nodding off. "At least she could have been naked." 

  


* * *

  
"Brilliant! Brilliant!" Cupid enthused as T'Pol reappeared in her quarters. "And the Macarena bit at the end? Nothing short of genius!" 

"He should be suitably convinced it was a dream," T'Pol responded placidly. 

"T'Pol, I could KISS you!" 

"Please put me down." 

"How can I repay you!" 

"By putting me down." 

"I mean, I have to do SOMETHING. But what!" 

"May I suggest putting me down?" 

"You are SUCH a spoil sport," Cupid complained, but obligingly put her back on her feet. "Come on, give me something to work with. What do you want?" 

T'Pol crossed her wrists behind her back. "I require nothing." 

Eros snorted. "T'Pol, baby, you have a GOD in your debt. A GOD. Do you know what that means? That means you can have ANYTHING YOU WANT." He paused to think, then tilted his head, considering. "Well… Okay, not ANYTHING. I mean, I can't, say, give you the sun, because Apollo would get pissed with me. He may look like a pretty boy, but he's got a right hook that'd knock your socks off. Although… I wonder… You know, since Vulcan doesn't share the same sun as Earth, I MIGHT be able to pull that off-" 

He was just beginning to warm to the idea of giving T'Pol Vulcan's twin suns as a present, and was trying to figure out how to wrap them, when the science officer interrupted his thoughts. "I have a suggestion." 

Cupid's ears perked up. "Oh?" 

She nodded. 

"Spill!" 

She did. 

  


* * *

  
Hours later, Malcolm muttered something unintelligible and opened his eyes. He was still in bed, and the digital clock he'd mounted above his bunk told him it was approximately three in the morning. Normally, his mind was clear and sharp as a razor when he woke - it came from years of training. But right now, for whatever reason, he felt like he'd been buried in a mountain of fuzz. He couldn't think straight. 

It took him a minute to realize the mountain of fuzz was real, and another thirty seconds to deduce it wasn't fuzz, but hair. Long, thick, glorious, glossy black hair that smelled like Lily of the Valley. 

Hoshi's hair. 

"Bloody-!" he yelped, sitting bolt upright and pressing his back against the wall as memories of their … activities from earlier that night came back to him. A sick weight settled in his stomach as realization washed over him. 

He was a pig. A base, disgusting, hormone-driven pig. Instead of fighting his lowest impulses, he'd given in; only luck and a little bit of lingering decency had kept him from crossing that final boundary. 

Oh… God. Hoshi would hate him. Who had he been kidding, thinking he could get away with… DOING those things with her - TO her - without any repercussions? Hoshi wasn't some toy to be teased and tucked away in a drawer for reinflation later. She was a woman, with memories and feelings and dignity. If he was lucky, she wouldn't stab him in the chest the next time they were on the bridge together. With luck, she'd make it the back, so he wouldn't have to see the utter revulsion in her eyes as she did it. 

Dear God… what would he do if, when she woke, nothing had changed, and her hormones were still sky high? How could he get away? 

"What have I done?" he whispered hoarsely, already planning escape routes. If he was careful, perhaps she'd wake up thinking she was in her own cabin, not his. True, the framed pictures of naval battle cruisers that were his only decoration MIGHT be a bit of a drawback- 

"Malcolm…?" 

He caught his breath as the sleepy voice meandered past his ears, and he felt the woman in front of him shift in her sleep. With a tremendous yawn and a catlike stretch, she rolled onto her back, blinking her eyes and gazing up at him. 

"Time…?" she mumbled blearily, rubbing her eyes. 

"It's…uh… well, almost three in the morning." He pressed tighter against the wall, trying to ignore the fact that the blankets were inching down her body, half revealing her breasts. "Feeling better?" 

A broad smile stretched across her face. "Mmmmmmmmm, much," she affirmed, nodding as she stretched again. "You?" 

"Fine," he replied evasively. "I… Let me call Doctor Phlox. I'm sure he'll want to take a look at you." He was trying to find a way to get over her without touching her so he could reach the comm panel, when a delicate hand rested on his arm. His blue eyes snapped up to her face. 

She was smiling at him. 

"I don't want to talk to Phlox yet," she murmured, rubbing his arm gently. "Just… wait?" 

Malcolm swallowed. Hard. "All right," he said quietly, sitting back again, back a rigid line against the wall. 

Hoshi sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're nervous, aren't you?" she said, sitting up and keeping the blankets tucked neatly around her upper body. Well, that was an improvement at least; earlier, it had been all he could do to get her to STAY covered up. "You think I'm going to be all angry with you, right? You think I hate you." 

He hung his head. "I'm transparent," he murmured. 

"No, you're not. But I know you well enough by now to tell when you're beating yourself up inside. Misery. It's your second favorite emotion." 

"What's my first?" He looked up, but tried not to meet her eyes. 

She would have none of that, and tugged his chin around until he was staring directly into her eyes. "I'm not sure," she told him, smiling as she said it. "But I've decided I'd really like to find out." 

He blinked at her. Then, slowly, the hint of a smile began to dawn on his face. "Is that… really you, Hoshi?" he asked tentatively. 

She nodded. "In the flesh." A soft laugh escaped her. "Literally, it seems." 

"You're not still…" He made a vague gesture, encompassing her whole body. 

"Nope." She shook her head, silky hair sliding over her shoulders. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Have I tried to jump you yet?" 

"Well… no." 

"Then there's your answer." 

Malcolm couldn't help but smile at the teasing tone of her voice. His Hoshi, by some miracle, was back, and she wasn't angry with him. "Is everything… okay then?" 

"No." 

His face fell. "What's wrong?" he asked. 

A wicked smile flared to life on her face. "It seems to me we've spent the whole night so far concentrating on me. Me, me, me. Now, no offense - a girl likes to be the center of attention. But now I feel guilty, and there's nothing like guilt to really put the brakes on an otherwise fun and frisky evening." With a predatory purr, she began to lean towards him. 

"Hoshi!" he exclaimed, backing up against the wall, eyes wide. "I think you need to see the doctor!" 

"Why, because I want you?" She chuckled as she nibbled on his lower lip. "Newsflash, lieutenant. It doesn't always take a hormone imbalance on a macroscopic level to make a girl interested in you." She ran her tongue over his lips, and nuzzled his jaw. 

"I… don't…" 

"Don't understand? Let me put it simply for you." Sliding closer, she pressed up against him. The only barrier between them was the starched white cotton of his bed sheet. 

"After last night's movie, I was going to ask you to dinner," she purred in his ear. "I was going to regale you with hilarious stories of my time in the Academy, and then I was going to ask you to escort me back to my quarters. And when we GOT to my quarters, I was going to artfully and tactfully maneuver you into my bed, Lieutenant." She nipped at his earlobe. "So really, everything that's happened has just been reality in fast forward." She sat back, smiling at him. "Happy now?" 

He stared at her for a second, with something resembling disbelief on his face. "But… protocol…" he managed to croak out. 

"Eh." She waved a dismissive hand. "Jon told me to go for it." 

"The Captain?!" Malcolm's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. 

"Well, we ARE old friends, after all. I figured I could talk to him about the whole affair. He seemed to understand." 

"I could be court-martialed!" 

"There, there, Malcolm," Hoshi soothed, patting his cheek gently. "I promise, you'll be fine. I'll make sure of it." 

It was hopeless. Malcolm couldn't help feeling he was the victim in a very elaborate game; a pawn in some intergalactic game of chess played by lethargic gods who had nothing better to do. It was incredibly unfair. 

But eh. Live in the moment - wasn't that what Trip was always telling him? 

He grinned. 

"Wait here," he said, pecking Hoshi gently on the lips before climbing out of bed. 

"Where are you going?" she called after him, curling up against the wall and watching him walk. He could feel her eyes on his back. 

Reaching the comm unit, he put one finger over his lips, signaling her to stay quiet, and keyed the panel. "Reed to the Mess Hall." 

There was a pause. Then, "Mess Hall, Crewman Sanchez here. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" 

"I was wondering if I could have some marmalade brought up to my quarters, Crewman," Malcolm said, giving Hoshi a wicked smile. "I've just had the sudden craving for it, but I'm afraid Doctor Phlox has restricted me to quarters for a little while. I'm sorry to bother you at such a late hour." 

"Nothing else doing during the graveyard shift, Lieutenant. I'll have some brought to you immediately." 

"Thank you, crewman. Reed out." He keyed off the comm and leaned against the wall, grinning at Hoshi and crossing his arms over his stomach. 

"Naughty boy," she said, eyes twinkling. 

"Actually, I think I've been quite good tonight," he responded. "Don't you?" 

"Oh, the best." 

"I think that deserves a little repayment, don't you?" 

"Naughty AND greedy. Bad, bad boy." 

"Would you like to punish me then?" 

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure." She patted the bed beside her. "Come 'ere, Lieutenant. I intend to mess up this bunk a little before that marmalade arrives and does the job for us." 

He all but vaulted for the bed. 

  
  
_To be concluded…_


	6. Happy Endings

**TITLE:** Hearts & Arrows  
_Chapter Six: Happy Endings_  
**AUTHOR:** Mnemosyne  
**RATING:** PG-13  
**NOTES:** And here we end our little journey, ladies and gentlemen. I hope that you've enjoyed the ride! :-D 

  


* * *

  
**A WEEK LATER**

  
"Hey there, you two. Mind if I sit?" 

Hoshi looked up from her study of Malcolm's hand - which was securely clasped in hers - and smiled at the approaching engineer. "Hey, Trip," she said as he set down his lunch tray and took a seat across from her at the Mess Hall table. "How's the day going?" 

"Started out shot to hell," the commander replied, around a mouthful of chicken and biscuits. "All kinds of circuits and processors were frying left, right and center. Finally had to call in T'Pol to help." 

"That type of thing seems to have been happening a lot lately," Malcolm noted. "Do you think it requires some time in space dock?" 

Tucker shook his head, shoveling a little more lunch into his face. "Nah. See, it's just piddly stuff; nothing connected to any of _Enterprise's_ major systems. Since it just started last week, I think the old girl's hitting her midlife crisis and begging for some pampering is all. I hate to say it, but T'Pol seems to know better than me what's going wrong half the time and how to fix it." He shook his head, taking a huge gulp of milk. He was vacuuming his food down like a black hole. "I'm going to have to make her an honorary engineer." 

Hoshi laughed softly. "And here I thought you'd bite your hand off at the wrist first," she teased, squeezing Malcolm's hand. 

Trip ignored that comment and grinned at the two of them. "Enough about me. Looks like you two are having a good day." He nodded at their joined hands and waggled his eyebrows. "How's life in the land of coital bliss?" 

"Commander!" Malcolm choked out, blushing bright red and looking around the Mess to make sure no one had heard. 

Hoshi laughed a little and brought up her second hand to squeeze Malcolm's even tighter. "Everything's fine, Commander, thank you very much," she told the engineer in a firm, slightly teasing tone, her eyes twinkling. "Not that it's any of your business, of course." 

"None of my business!" Trip seemed honestly shocked at the notion. "I nearly gave myself a hernia trying to throw you two together!" 

"Thank you for the effort, Commander, but I think nature took its course without too much help from you," Malcolm said. 

"I told you to wear the blue shirt," the engineer sulked, crossing his arms petulantly across his chest. But his eyes were sparkling. 

Hoshi raised her eyebrows. "Then perhaps we owe you more than we know." She turned to Malcolm and murmured, "That shirt DOES make you look even more beautiful than usual." 

She grinned as the armory officer blushed an even darker shade of red. "Hoshi, luv, someone might hear," he murmured, eyes darting around the room once more. 

"They're all going to know what we're talking about anyway, the way you're blushing," she pointed out, running her thumb over the back of his hand. 

"You're positively wicked, you know that?" 

"You thought I was Snow White?" 

He laughed quietly, and she felt her bones turn to butter. Things between them had been remarkably good since their passionate tryst a week earlier. Malcolm had gone through only one guilty relapse, and they'd only been caught twice in compromising positions in places other than their quarters. Not that their cabins were safe, of course; Hoshi had already had at least one note tacked to her door from an annoyed Ensign Cadrac, whose quarters bordered hers on the left. _"Please keep it down,"_ the note read, _"so that those of us who aren't getting any can sleep without listening to those who are."_

Malcolm had blushed scarlet when she'd shown him the note. He blushed so much, she'd nicknamed him the Pimpernel. 

Doctor Phlox still had no medical explanation for what had possessed her that night, nor why it had left as quickly as it had arrived. The best he could offer was that it had been some form of infection she'd picked up on an earlier away mission, which had lain dormant in her blood until, for one reason or another, it had been sparked by an outside stressor; namely, her plans for movie night with Malcolm. 

"So why did it go away so quickly, Doctor?" she'd asked. 

"In the long run, an illness is just an illness, be it alien or domestic," he'd replied with his trademark grin. "I believe you just had to sweat it out of your system. You did sweat, Ensign, didn't you?" 

She was STILL blushing from that when Malcolm picked her up for dinner later that night. So much so, he began to call her the She-Pimpernel. 

"Are you going to movie night tonight, Commander?" Malcolm asked, obviously trying to steer the conversation towards a less embarrassing topic. 

"They're finally going to show the Abbott and Costello film," Hoshi chimed in. "It's a riot" 

"Sorry, folks, but I've got an appointment tonight," Trip told them, finishing up the last of his gravy with a swipe of biscuit across the plate. "We're gonna have to postpone the threesome for now." 

Malcolm nearly choked on his water as Hoshi died laughing. Trip was beaming like a randy sailor on the other side of the table. For a southern gentleman, he sure knew how to push buttons. 

"And what appointment is that?" Hoshi finally asked, after she'd recovered herself a bit. One of her hands rubbed Malcolm's back as the tactical officer tried to hold down a coughing fit. He was sputtering like a dying carburetor at the moment. 

"T'Pol's got a theory on what's causing all these technical difficulties in Engineering," Trip replied. "I'm gonna meet up with her in her quarters tonight to go over some schematics." He stood up, readying to leave. 

Hoshi raised her eyebrows. "Oh really?" she mused suggestively. 

"It's not like that, Hoshi," the commander protested, blushing a little. //Reap what you sow, Trip,// Hoshi thought, grinning. Malcolm was right - she WAS a wicked woman. "It's strictly professional." 

"Uh-huh." 

"It is!" 

"Sure, Trip. You just keep telling yourself that." 

"Don't make me order you to be quiet, Ensign." 

"Why ever would you want to do that, sir?" she asked, batting her lashes innocently. 

"What happened to all work and no play makes Malcolm a sulky bastard?" Malcolm asked. He'd finally recovered from his coughing fit. "Does it not apply to Chief Engineers for some reason?" 

"Course not," Tucker replied. 

"And why not?" 

"Well my name's not Malcolm for one." 

"Ha. Ha." 

"Look, you two," Trip said. "T'Pol and I are strictly professional around each other. True, she's a good looking woman, but… Well… Look, nothing's going on, all-right?" 

"Good looking woman, huh?" Hoshi commented. "Bet she's fun to be with, isn't she." 

"Hoshi, she's a VULCAN." 

"So? Vulcan's can't be fun now?" 

"Cut it out!" 

Hoshi laughed. "Okay, Trip," she relented. "There's nothing going on between you and the sub-commander." 

"Thank you," Trip acknowledged with a nod, straightening the front of his uniform for no apparent reason. 

"Certainly nothing that would have you wolfing down your food like a madman so you can get back to your shift, finish up anything that needs finishing, then go back to your quarters to pretty yourself up for her tonight." 

Trip glared at her. "You're a-" 

"Wicked woman, I know." She waved a dismissive hand. "So I've been told." 

"I'm getting out of her before I have to suffer anymore of this abuse," Trip complained, obviously trying to look suitably wounded. The blush that colored his cheeks, however, belied his play at innocence. "Good luck, Malcolm. You're gonna need it." 

They watched him go, then Malcolm leaned towards her. "Even if he didn't see her in that light before, luv," he murmured near her ear, "you realize he IS going to see her that way NOW, right?" 

"Of course." 

"So why do it?" 

She turned to him and nuzzled his nose. "Because he's our friend and he wanted us to be happy so badly." She smiled, lacing their fingers together. "I guess I want to return the favor." 

Malcolm smiled, eliciting a jolt in Hoshi's limbic system. "You're a romantic, luv," he said, kneading her hand gently. 

Hoshi smiled. "It's fun to play Cupid." 

"There's an idea." 

"Hmm?" 

"We're not due back to the bridge for forty-five minutes." He grinned at her and lowered his voice to a whisper. "If I play Cupid, will you be my Psyche?" 

Another jolt. Her eyes felt heavy as she murmured, "Only if you promise to wear a toga." 

"Only if you promise to take it off me." 

"Deal." 

  


* * *

  
The day dawned bright and sunny on the holy mountain of Olympus, but then, it never dawned as anything else. Fauns frolicked, Naiads bathed, and Satyrs spied on the Naiads. Someone played a heartbreakingly beautiful tune on an ancient tortoise shell lyre, while above, Helios drove his chariot through the sky on its regular diurnal course. 

Cupid was stretched out on his favorite deck chair beside his mother's pool, lounging to beat the band. His foray into the world of mortals now over, he had a lot of missed tanning time to make up for. True, he didn't need to tan, but it was the PROCESS of tanning he enjoyed rather than the effect. There was something intensely soothing about lying in the warm sun, piña colada at hand, listening to the birds twitter endlessly about inane, beautiful things. Oh yes; this was bliss. 

Eternal life. Was. GOOD. 

He had just begun to doze off when a high pitched bell jarred him from his dreamy state. It took him a moment to realize it was his mother. 

"Cuuuuuuuuupiiiiiid! CUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIID!" 

"Nooooooooo," he groaned, closing his eyes and feeling his happy inner bubble pop with a loud BANG! "Go away!" 

"Cupid! Is that how you talk to your mother now?" 

He sighed and opened one eye. Aphrodite was silhouetted against the golden orb of the sun, and it flared and shimmered through her glorious hair. She had her supple arms crossed over her stomach, and was tapping a delicate foot in annoyance as she stared down at him. 

"Déjà vu," Cupid said. 

"What are you doing?" the goddess asked, arching a sleek eyebrow. 

"Resting, mommy. I've had a very rough week." 

"Rough? ROUGH? You put ONE couple together. ONE. I do more than that in an HOUR!" 

"Two couples!" Cupid protested, sitting up a little. "What about Trip and T'Pol?" 

"What about them?" 

"Well, you saw what T'Pol wanted." He let all emotion drain from his face as he mimicked T'Pol in a deadpan monotone. "As repayment, I would appreciate time with Commander Tucker when he is not being…irritating." His normal facial expressions returned as he pouted up at his mother. "So I fixed it so the ship would keep breaking for a while and they could spend some quality time together. Yeah, I didn't use the Phaser of Love on either of them, but I decided you were right - humans don't need to be hit over the head with love. They just need the chance to find it for themselves. Since T'Pol was the one who asked for it, I didn't think she needed an arrow, either. AND I remembered your warning about shooting Vulcans with love juice. BIG no-no." He shrugged. "I've been checking in on the little pointy eared vixen and her Southern beau, too, and they seem to be making strides in the right direction. They're even going to be ALONE in HER QUARTERS tonight, for some SHOP TALK." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at his mother. 

Venus rolled her eyes and sighed. "All right, I'll give it to you," she relented. "TWO couples. But that doesn't mean you can just stop! You're a god - a love god! Didn't I tell you I wanted you to start working full time again? You missed a lot of couples over the centuries, and darn it, we're going to fix that." 

Cupid groaned. "You mean we have to TIME TRAVEL?" 

"Yes." 

"Mommy, I HATE time traveling!" 

"Well you should have thought of that millenia ago. Up, up!" 

Unwillingly, Cupid let himself be dragged to his feet by his petite mother. "Mommy, this is stupid," he told her. "They obviously all got together in the end, or else the future would be completely screwed up." 

"They got together in the end because it was preordained that you would go back in time and hook them up." 

"Mommy, I HATE paradoxes!" 

"Well you should have thought-" 

"Thought of that millenia ago, yeah, I get it, mommy." He sighed heavily, casting regretful eyes back on his deck chair. "I miss it already." 

"There, there, pookie," Aphrodite said soothingly, leading him to the pool and rubbing his back. "Just think - once your done, you can time travel back to this very moment and lounge around a bit, as if nothing had ever happened." 

Cupid brightened. "Hey, you're right!" 

She smiled at him. "I know I am, dear. Now kneel." 

They knelt together beside the pool, and Aphrodite reached out to touch the water with a petal soft fingertip. As usual, the water swirled and reformed into a window onto the mortal world. "This first one is very important, pookie, because the fate of a galaxy rides on what happens to this batch of mortals." 

"Um… Mommy? Are you sure you want to be putting the fate of a whole galaxy in my hands?" 

"Relax, sweetie. Like you said - it obviously works out in the end, since we're not all puffs of ozone, right?" 

"Divine ozone, you mean." 

"Yes, well, apples to apples, oranges to oranges. Anyway, pay attention. See, it all began a long time ago. Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…" 

  
**THE END**

  
**A/N:** _ That's the end, everyone! I hope you enjoyed! Just to clear up a little confusion - a lot of people have asked if my Cupid and Aphrodite are based on the Xena/Hercules television versions. I can honestly say that no, they aren't; the only "Xena's" I ever watched were the Joxer episodes, so I had a little exposure to Aphrodite. But I only ever got fragments of Cupid, so I have no idea what his personality was like. :-D Of couse, if you've been envisioning the television versions this whole time, that's fine! I don't think it affects the story too much one way or another. As long as you liked it, that's all that matters! :-D _


End file.
